In my most recent job…
I worked with several women who were young enough to be my daughters. That in itself is a new experience for me. Prior to this I had been self-employed and didn’t notice this particular passage of time. Prior to this I had been one of them. I was hopeful. I had dreams. I was full of enthusiasm. I was unstoppable, but somewhere along the line my dream started to fall apart, and my perspective changed.
I found my purpose.
People told me that I found my purpose; clients, psychics, teachers, and friends. I was under the impression that if you were living your life’s purpose there would be a certain flow, a continuity to life. Perhaps I was naive. Perhaps I was too hopeful. Those beliefs segued to others: Success was meant for other people. I missed my opportunity. It didn’t matter. Nobody cared.
Beliefs dictate everything.
I’ve had more training than the average Joe when it comes to the power of beliefs. I went through an intensive hypnotherapy program several years ago. I know beliefs are the rivers that direct the course of our lives. I know beliefs influence everything. Everything. And yet I felt helpless to change any of it. This only served to reinforce existing beliefs: Success is meant for other people. I missed my opportunity. It doesn’t matter. Nobody cares.
What was my dream and how did it fall apart?
My dream was to help people heal. My vision included my own experience; a quiet room, soft music, dim lights, and a healing touch. I did that. I had that. I succeeded, but I didn’t feel successful. How come?
I never achieved material success.
Money has never been a strong motivator for me, so I shouldn’t be surprised that I don’t have any. Money alone was never my goal, but attaining it the way I did wasn’t easy. There was no pay period. I was dependent on clients showing up. Most of the time that worked, but then there were weeks when my schedule fell apart and my income plummeted. Saving for a raining day became the norm. The problem was I had a lot of rainy days. I had no-shows and last minute cancellations. I had an emergency surgery. This simultaneously eliminated my income while racking up a substantial hospital bill. There was also a housing crisis. Rent sky rocketed. Add to that the problems everyone deals with; a car in the shop, a trip to the dentist, general cost of living, and so on…
My spirit took a beating.
Money wasn’t the only issue. I didn’t expect my spirit to take such a beating from helping people. In this case I am not referring to the energy exchange that comes from touch. I am talking about people dealing with their own messy lives. They often wanted their time with me to be blissful and magical. Sometimes it was, and they were happy. Sometimes their own daily choices were contributing to their misery, but they still wanted me to fix it, make them better, make them twenty years younger, make them feel good again. I needed them to take responsibility for their health and many of them didn’t. I felt exhausted by that.
Don’t slap the hand that feeds you.
I felt trapped as a massage therapist. My good reputation grew. People wanted me to rub their backs, and necks, and feet. That’s fine except I never wanted to be a massage therapist. Most people don’t know that. I went to the New Mexico School of Natural Therapeutics to study core synchronism. I did that. I became certified, but people still wanted their backs rubbed. They said I was good. They said nobody helped them like I did. They said I was their favorite, but I didn’t want to do it. I let my resentment grow until my thumbs gave out, and I closed my practice. I got a job, but I can’t imagine a job that is actually a good fit for me. I like freedom too much to keep the same hours day after day, week after week, with no change in sight. Some people find stability in that kind of routine. I find it suffocating.
Several months ago I took a course to become a certified meditation instructor. One of the meditations we did was angel communication. It stuck. I do it every day. I do it because the energy I tap into is unlike anything else. It’s magnificent!
Last night during my meditation I asked that my hope be healed. I felt a lack of hope was the root of my problem. I got instant feedback, much to my delight and surprise. Feedback is something I am still working the kinks out of. The issue I have is trusting the information. How much am I influencing the response? One way that I know I am not influencing the response is when the information comes as a surprise. This did. The exchange that followed can be summed up by stating that a lack of hope is not my problem, a lack of joy is.
Hope verses Joy
The dictionary on the internet describes hope as, a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. It describes joy as, a feeling of great pleasure and happiness. They sound similar, but my take-away is that I need to let go of expectation and experience pleasure in the work I choose to do. Work as pleasure. I may need to sit with that one for awhile. It wasn’t how I was raised. If I want to experience a shift, and end the drought in my creative process, I need to allow the experience of pleasure into something that has required a ton of effort.
Clearly I am a work in progress. Clearly I have more to learn, but somewhere deep a light flickers. The embers of my dreams have not blown out completely. Joy awaits.